


Wake Up

by itscryptidtime



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Blurryface Era, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph, Minor Violence, Pining, Sexual Content, degrading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-03 03:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21172571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itscryptidtime/pseuds/itscryptidtime
Summary: in which blurry's a bully and clancy falls victim. smut ensues.





	Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> just like the summary says. had this one sitting in the drafts for awhile. now that i've finally had some time to myself i was finally able to sit down and finish it off holy shit. so have this self-indulgent blurry/clancy thing i've been thinking about for awhile i guess. weird time travel stuff included
> 
> and yes, i literally hc clancy looking like nothing but a ghost-looking ty. genius i know

"_Finicky, f__inicky." _

_"I am not." _

Clancy stands at five foot eight, an unimpressive stature compared to his counterpart, Blurry-- well, _Nico._ He still can't wrap his head around the divergence between the head bishop and the man that stands before him now, eyes dripping with an angry red, exuding a certain youthfulness about him that Clancy found difficult to place. 

"_You can't keep your hands off him." _

Clancy fell silent. Blurry stares down at the other, who was currently tending to an unconscious Tyler sprawled out on the couch. Specks of dust were wiped away from his jacket, smears of black cleansed from his skin-- it was as if Clancy couldn't even bear the thought of an imperfection visible on his person. Blurry found it to be a pitiful sight. 

Snow white hair peaks out from underneath his hood, accompanied with equally blank eyes that kept roaming Tyler's person. The three of them were an exact copy of one another, all with different features and objectives. 

_The end of an era._ Clancy remembers his reason for being here. He remembers his beaten and bloody hands pounding on the chest of the bishop he found the most solace in—a result of his severe desperation and confusion—Keons. He remembers crying and being soothed with a hand stroking over his cheek, the hushed promise in his ear, their shared discreet, the cliffs, and finally, the communion cup being filled with sweet wine, mixed in with yellow petals collected by Clancy's hand. 

The gentle murmuring of his bishop filled the empty chapel, acting as a lullaby for the curious miscreant while he lay comfortably on the altar, the fresh flavor of saccharine lingering in his mouth. It was the last taste he remembered before he left the land of _Dema, _Keons' voice echoing in his head: 

_I have killed my child once and I will do it again. This time, it is he who wields the blade and it is he who is responsible for the suffering of others. May mercy find him. _

* * *

Clancy touched at the small groove of Tyler's temple in thought, oblivious to the lesson he was being taught. He saw this as an opportunity for him to finally understand how it all came to be. Answers to his questions, which came in the form of two men with a gruelling relationship and equally as jarring potential. One of which was asleep, had been for hours, while the other loomed behind Clancy with thinning patience. He didn't want to face him, not now. He harbored the same fear that Tyler did, hidden beneath ratty clothes and dull, ghost-like skin. But there weren't enough layers to hide himself away from the forceful hand that had found its way to the back of his neck, tight and unrelenting. Not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to threaten. Clancy tensed.

"Let me go. I need to watch him," Clancy said, his voice holding no real firmness behind the mouth-piece that he wore. It was a simple touch, but one he knew all too well. Blurry tightened his grip, a disapproving look just barely able to be seen in Clancy's line of vision. 

"_We're both watching. I'm just putting you in your place." _

Clancy doesn't fight when he's suddenly manhandled and shoved to the floor, his head knocking back against the mahogany. It's happened multiple times before, each incident leaving him with differing bruises and scratches lining along his scalp. But while he wasn't necessarily aggressive in his attempts to get up and resume his observations, he still tried. A slight shift of his body, then a simple twist to get his hands on the floor as a starting point to begin pushing himself up again-- then came the boot. Always crushing and always coming down on him with little to no mercy, Blurry took the steel-toe to his nose with a sharp _crack._

Clancy's head flew back with the force, and before he could react, his head had been slammed back down on the floor with the same boot resting on his skull. Clancy took a few, shuddering breaths through his nose, not wanting to let the whine creeping in the back of his throat loose. 

"_Fragile, that's what you are. You're no different from him," _Blurry remarked, bending down far enough to see the blood seeping through the material of his mask and onto the floor. Shifting, he pressed his heel between his shoulder blades, tearing the hood away along with the mask with minimal effort. Here, Clancy was vulnerable, exposed and pinned beneath the predator himself. 

He could have cried. 

"Please," he weakly pleaded, but he knew his words would go unheard. They always did. "I just want answers." 

Blurry discarded the piece and refocused his attention on Clancy, who was still very much helpless beneath his weight. A hand shrouded in ink found its way to Clancy's hair, staining it, yanking and angling his head in a way that made it possible for red eyes to clash with blank ones. Even without any visible pupils, the fear was still apparent in the bandito's eyes. 

Blood stained his lips and chin, even smearing over the scars along his face. Blurry couldn't resist. Clancy almost wished he did.

Lurching forward, the demon wasted no time in clashing his lips into his, all heat, teeth, and tongue. Clancy made a strained noise against him while Blurry would continue to invade his mouth, tongue relishing the sweet, metallic taste of his pain. 

He pulled off with a sickening _pop,_ leaving Clancy breathless and with no time to register the fact that the dull ache in his back had been alleviated, instead being replaced with the familiar coolness of the floor. 

Weary eyes peered up at Blurry, who was currently looming over him with a predatory gaze. He despised the shudder it brought about at the base of his spine, travelling upwards with glee and forcing a pathetic sound from his throat. He knew very well that this wasn't _his _bishop, the Nico he knew, but there was still promise in his touches and the way he handled him that made him believe. It was like _home._ The blood that smeared his lips and painted his skin felt cleansing, as were the words that had been spoken to him next,

"_Sweet bitch. This is a good look for you." _

Clancy just about sobbed. It didn't help knowing his shame was still within the confines of his pants, straining for the friction from the knee that Blurry oh-so-tantalizingly placed between his legs, just out of reach. He had to stay put. He had to. 

"_You remember our agreement, don't you?"_

He did. He just didn't _want _to. 

"No." 

A slap to the face. The sting it left behind hurt, but it was satisfying in its wake. 

"_Fall apart for me, you get no answers." _

Blurry shifted his knee forward, right up against Clancy's crotch. He had to physically restrain himself from bucking his hips up or granting himself the friction he desperately yearned for, hands immediately scrambling for some sort of purchase on the floor, his own body, _something. _There wasn't much to keep him grounded and Blurry wasn't making things any easier when he began to move. His knee dragged back and forth along his fly, adding just enough pressure to force a whine out of the helpless bandito. 

Next thing he knew, he was crying. Hot tears ran over his cheeks in quiet sniffles, hands coming up to weakly shield his view from what was happening to him. Time and time again, it's happened. Blurry held the promise of making Clancy's life a little less complicated with the answers he sought after, but not without a price. He didn't even know if the dreadful manifestation even _knew _about the extent of the situation or how he was involved with all of this, but Clancy didn't question anything under the assumption that Blurry _did_, in fact, know.

He certainly acted like it, so Clancy believed him.

He also believed that his efforts were hopeless, especially knowing his desperation was getting the better of him. Blurry found new ways to break his spirit ever since he first showed up here, hardly questioning his existence and instead taking him by either the hair, the neck, the arms or legs just for the sake of discovering new angles and positions to fuck him and his pride in. 

For weeks, this went on. Tyler still hadn't acknowledged him, or, didn't try to, at least. It was as if Clancy was nothing but a shadow in his peripheral, a glimpse of an idea that would wither away with his lack of motivation to actually _act _on it. Clancy didn't mind, though. He could wait. 

"_I can wait, I can wait," _Clancy reiterated through trembles, as if the reminder wasn't enough to convince himself yet. Blurry took this as an incentive.

"_Hey, it's okay to cry, sugar," _Blurry cooed, black hands sliding over his thighs in what seemed like a comforting touch_, _when really, he just wanted to tempt Clancy into giving in already. "_Come on, you know waiting's just going to hurt you. Let me take care of you." _

This comforting role he took on was such a strange contrast from the cruel, relentless brute that had been beating down on Clancy moments ago, but it wasn't like the bandito could differentiate between the two through his wet, bleary eyes or the weakened state he was in anyways. It wasn't hard to disorient him or to throw any sense of rational thinking of his out the window. It was one of the many things Blurry liked about him. Nothing was more delicious than watching such a naive little thing come apart in his hands. 

"_No, no... I can't..." _Clancy tried to resist again, as a last attempt to maintain what was left of his composure, however, that didn't last long when Blurry's calloused fingers would find his hips, nails digging into the skin there. Clancy cried out, arching his back.

_"You can."_

That was it. One more push was all it took for Clancy to forget his precautions up to this point and allow himself to wade in the warmth that had bloomed over his skin, his mouth falling open in another silent cry. Blurry's grip was like a vice, jerking him forward like he was nothing but a weightless doll. The action alone made Clancy go rigid, but Blurry didn't stop there. Those same, cruel hands provided Clancy with the friction he needed, rubbing the fleshy part of his palm into his groin, sending the bandito into another haze. All of this was occurring just inches away from Tyler, who was still very much asleep on the couch, completely oblivious to the fact that Blurry now had his hands down Clancy's pants. 

By this point, Clancy's hips found themselves in a slow, involuntary roll, trying to gain whatever relief he can from the dark digits palming at him through his worn briefs. _"Please."_

_"_ _Please, what?"_

"_Blurry," _Clancy pleaded. _"__Cleanse me. Touch me." _

Blurry didn't need anymore convincing. Grasping his cock, the warmth of Blurry's hand held him in place, enveloping Clancy in its compelling solace. It was welcome. Loving. Oh, so loving. Clancy could cry all over again. In fact, he could feel new tears running down his cheek at a horizontal angle, cascading from the corner of his eye and below his temple, where they would drop onto the floor beneath him. His head was sideways. Blurry was holding him by the chin and forcing him to look at Tyler.

"_Tell him you love him."_

_"Blur--"_ He choked up. Blurry was holding him tighter. He could feel the black practically seeping through his skin. 

_"Tell him, or I'll fucking leave you here."_

Clancy's cock was throbbing in Blurry's palm, aching for the slow, torturous strokes that he granted him with. But the motion came dangerously close to stopping when Clancy hesitated. _No._ He'd much rather be dead than to have him abandon him in this state. So, mustering whatever words he could while he stared at Tyler, who had his back to them, nose buried in the cushions, he spoke up. 

"... You." Clancy uttered, the first few words being lost in his silent sobbing. He was capable of stopping this, his hands were by no means bound, yet, his nails continued to dig into the floor, useless with tension. Blurry was in complete control of him. Blurry made him believe that Tyler was there, aware of Clancy and everything that he was saying and doing, making him believe that he was awake and aware of the vulnerable position he was in. He made him believe, even though Clancy himself was blind in his beliefs. Blurry was stroking faster, trying to coax the words out of the bandito. 

_"Louder. Say his name."_ Blurry demanded, briefly spitting on his hand to slick Clancy's cock. He was overwhelmed, thighs trembling while Blurry pushed him over the edge, barely able to contain himself. That familiar, keening warmth was pooling in his abdomen, building up pressure until Clancy couldn't take it anymore. 

"_Please, please, please," _ Clancy was babbling now, struggling to keep his gaze fixed on Tyler. "_Please, I love you. Please, look at me." _ He sounded desperate. He _was_ desperate.

"_Please, Josh." _

The pressure became too much. In the midst of his garbled nonsense, Clancy ended up spilling over Blurry's hand in shuddering gasps, hands shaking as they struggled to find Blurry's shoulders to hold on. Blurry remained close, stroking the writhing bandito through the shockwaves of pleasure, kissing his tears away. Clancy was in ruins by the time he came down from his high, his orgasm leaving him with nothing but shaky breaths and the lingering sense of dread he almost forgot about. He wasn't able to protest when Blurry finally pulled away, still struggling to regulate his own breathing. His chest was ready to collapse on itself. 

Blurry stood tall, towering over him once again. He looked at the aftermath of Clancy's desperation, which came in the form of blood and cum on his fingers and knuckles. He licked at it, red eyes holding Clancy's weak stare. He could feel his stomach twist on itself when he saw. Clancy gave a helpless whimper when he heard Blurry talking down on him again, a shoe pressed up against his bare cock. Blurry spat in his face.

"_Whore." _

Tyler woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is appreciated!


End file.
